


Hearts in Armor

by MarieQuiteContrarie (SeaStar1330)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s05e06 The Bear and the Bow, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Starting Over, Talking, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/pseuds/MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the events of The Bear and the Bow, Rumple and Belle have an extended conversation in the library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearts in Armor

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Like many Rumbelle fans, I had a lot of emotions after The Bear and the Bow. I decided to delve a little deeper into Rumple and Belle’s psyche in these moments in the library. There's never enough talking about important issues, so I extended the conversation before they head to Rumple’s shop. Contains spoilers for OUAT 5x06. I do not own Once Upon A Time or any of its characters.

_One more day my heart's in armor_  
_Though I did not see it then_  
_I would finish what you started_  
_If I had that chance again_  
**Hearts in Armor**  
Trisha Yearwood

 

Rumplestiltskin stares down at the remains of the chipped cup and rubs his chaffed wrists. A gash on his palm oozes blood. He smears the crimson stain with his thumb and it mingles with the salt in his sweat, making the cut throb. He tests his weight on his bad leg. After hours of swordplay, it is tender and sore. His throat is parched and swollen. With magic always at his disposal, he hasn’t suffered too many effects of physical pain in the past 300 years. But the sensations of being a normal man come flooding back, and he wheezes with anxiety. Though he has shattered the cup to set himself free of Merida’s Boot Camp for Heroes, he remains trapped in a hell of his own making. He feels broken, alone, and scared.

 _No_ , he argues with his addled brain, clenching his trembling hands together to stop the tremors, _you can’t do this now_. _You need to find Belle._ Fighting off waves of panic that threaten to pull him under, he leaves the camp, abandoning the pieces of their cup. Merida can deal with the Dark Swan on her own.

Resolute, he hobbles through the woods, stabbing the ground with the crude walking stick his jailer fashioned for him. The stick scrapes his palm, leaving jagged splinters in his hand, but he ignores the sting. He needs to see Belle. Dragging his abused body, he navigates the mines and enters the basement of the library. As he steps into the lift, he prays that Belle will be there. Alone. If Hook, Charming, or another one of her hypocritical friends is with her, he will surely crumble into dust. The gears whir and creak as he slowly ascends out of the bowels of the building to the ground floor. When the doors open he shuffles to the back corner of the elevator, huddling in the corner for protection.

As light streams into the darkened lift, he sees Belle standing there, poised to defend herself with a fire extinguisher. The scene reminds him of when she locked herself inside the lift to escape Hook’s attack. When he had arrived and opened the doors, she had flown into his arms like a startled bird, petite and wide-eyed. He’d promised to always protect her. Now, void of the confidence his power always delivered, the days when she loved and trusted him to honor those vows seem a million years away.

“Rumple! Oh, my God, Rumple!” Belle quickly casts her makeshift weapon aside. “It’s me,” she assures him, holding out her hands. “It’s only me. You’re safe now.”

“Belle. It's you? Really you?” he stutters stupidly.

And for the first time ever, he looks at her not with eyes tainted by the Dark One. He gazes at her with the eyes of a man.

xoxo

 _Where? Where is she keeping you?_ Belle moans in frustration, studying the Storybrooke town plans for the twentieth time. Although the restored Enchanted Rose signals that Rumple is alive, she won’t be satisfied until she sees him with her own eyes. He could be hurt or worse, and if Regina, the Charmings, and Hook refuse to rescue him from Emma’s clutches, fine. Belle isn’t going to let their short-sighted selfishness stop her.

After exchanging words with that band of traitors, she had fled the mayor’s office and run straight to the pawnshop, in search of the chipped cup. Holding the porcelain talisman comforts her—it’s a symbol of hope that the love between her and Rumple will continue to survive. Much to her dismay the safe was hanging open, the cup is missing—as well as the wedding ring she placed inside. Empty-hearted and empty-handed, she had crossed the street to the library. Now she’s back to research and every lead drives her toward a dead end.

Thinking of Rumple, Belle worries her lower lip between her teeth. The pain of their mutual betrayal is an open wound, and Belle isn’t quite ready to leap back into a life together. But she loves Rumplestiltskin, certain as the sun. She always has, and she always will. There’s no way she’s giving up, and the determination to tell him so fuels her desperation to find him.

Suddenly she hears the lift, groaning and screeching as it makes its way up from the basement. Belle pivots toward the sound. _Nothing good ever comes out of that elevator_ , she grimaces. _What kind of trouble is beyond those doors today?_ Grabbing the fire extinguisher, she steels herself for the onslaught, expecting an unknown enemy. But it’s a different sort of danger waiting for her on the other side, one she knows all too well.

Her heart thumps rapidly in response to his nearness. _It’s him_. Rumplestiltskin.

“Rumple?” And for the first time ever, she looks into eyes not tainted by the Dark One. She gazes into the eyes of a man.

xoxo

“Belle, it’s you,” he repeats, disbelief mingled with relief. He glances around the library. Empty. There’s only his darling Belle. Except that she isn’t his, not anymore. He ruined their love, just as he ruins everything. It’s poetic justice that one who could once spin straw into gold has turned everything else in his life into garbage. Tears flood his weary eyes and he averts his gaze, ashamed. He’s afraid he’ll see disgust and anger mottling her lovely features. But when he peeks at her again, she seems relieved, perhaps even happy, to see him.

She is as beautiful as ever, but Belle’s hair is longer than he remembers, her cheeks hollow and pale. _Pale with concern for him,_ he wonders? _Surely not._

Her outstretched hands are a siren’s call as she beckons him closer. “It’s ok,” she soothes again. “You’re safe now. I’ve been searching for you everywhere. I’m so glad to see you.” Reassured by her welcome, he steps into the light and eases himself into a wooden chair.

xoxo

Belle’s mouth runs dry. The man before her is so much like Rumple, yet seems entirely different. The Rumplestiltskin that Belle knows stalks with the dangerous grace of a panther on the prowl. But this man, all quaking knees, floundering limbs, and creased suit? There’s a guilelessness in his countenance, a naked honesty that she’s never encountered.

Deep down, she has always known the real Rumplestiltskin was there, and he had shown her that kind, loving, generous side of himself more often than not. But now? Now those soulful brown eyes are completely clear—no monster bent on destruction rages below the surface. Watching him watch her warily, all plans to keep him at an emotional distance have fled.

“Are you cold?” she asks in response to his shivering. “I have a blanket…”

“No, thank you, Belle.” His beloved face is crumpled, ravaged by terror and misery. Uncertain, she flutters her hands, starting to reach for him, but suddenly she is tongue-tied, shy, and scared. She still loves him, but does he still love her?

She waits for him to open his arms. Instead he’s praising her, thanking her, telling her that hearing her voice in the coma was all that kept him from letting go. Patiently, she listens to him speak words she doesn’t deserve to hear. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be alive,” he weeps.

Belle can take no more. Crouched at his feet, she teeters on her heeled black boots and collapses in a heap. Her body aches with the desire to hold him. She covers her mouth with her hands to stifle her sobs, afraid she will startle this sensitive, skittish creature. If he shrinks back from her, locking himself away as in the past, she won’t be able to bear it. She girds her heart with armor, preparing for the worst.

xoxo

“Belle!” he cries out when she falls to the floor, and he slides off the chair, reaching for her. The abrupt motion bruises his tailbone and they are an awkward mess of tangled limbs, but he doesn’t care. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

He’s been pouring out his gratitude and remorse, but now he wonders if she’s heard a single word. Does she have any idea how sorry he is? That he’d sell his soul to return to the Dark Castle and do it all again, accept her love from the very beginning and offer his whole heart in return? _Perhaps it’s simply too late_ , he considers. Again he asks, “Belle, are you all right?”

A noise of distress is her only reply and he shuffles closer, wondering what to do. Terrified of rejection but wanting to comfort her, he steels his heart with armor. Hesitantly, he holds up a blood-caked hand and gently pats her soft chestnut waves.

xoxo

That tentative touch is all the encouragement Belle needs.

Hurling herself into his arms, she smothers him with kisses everywhere she can reach—his forehead, cheeks, nose, neck, and ears. Love for him washes over her and Belle starts to cry, burying her tear-soaked face in his neck. Enfolding her in his arms, he rocks her as she shakes and sobs, murmuring in his hushed brogue. “Belle, Belle, please don’t cry. Sweetheart, I can’t stand to make you sad.”

“You didn’t. It’s just, I thought I had lost you,” she whispers, inhaling his sweet, musky scent. “The rose was dying. Almost all the petals had fallen, but then it came back. Magic--dark magic, I ran to be with you when you woke up, but Emma had already taken you away.”

“Rose?” he asks, confused. “What rose?”

“The Blue Fairy gave me an Enchanted Rose to watch over you while we were in Camelot,” she says, coloring with embarrassment. “Rumple, the truth is, I didn’t sit by your side the entire time you were in stasis. I went to Camelot with the others.”

“Belle, after everything I’ve done, I don’t even deserve to live,” he admits roughly. “Do not be sorry for doing what was right. I don’t deserve your devotion. I never have.”

“Stop! Rumple, she snaps, eyes flashing. “Stop saying things like that.”

“Why?” he asks, his expression mutinous. “It’s true. I’m a coward, Belle. I always have been and I always will be. I drove you away. Now it’s too late.”

“No,” she insists, determined to make him understand who he truly is. “Do you remember when I crossed the town line?”

“You mean when Hook tried to kill you?” he interrupts, annoyed.

Belle manages a tiny smile; her Rumple is still there. “Yes, she pats his hand comfortingly. “I was in the hospital and I didn’t know you or anyone else. I didn’t even know myself.”

“How could I forget,” he shudders.

“You called me from your deathbed. Do you remember what you told me?”

He shakes his head and looks at the floor.

“You insisted I was a hero. Me. The only daughter of a merchant king, whose greatest achievement was selling herself to the Dark One to protect her kingdom from the ogres. But you weren’t at all what I expected. Rather than a fate worse than death, you were my greatest champion. After my mother died, I needed that more than I could say. You had faith in me, and because of you, I learned to have faith in myself,” she says, shaking her head when he opens his mouth to protest.

“Rumple, when I look at you, I see a hero. All the pain you’ve been through, it’s made you strong. I believe in you. I’ve always believed in you. Now you need to believe in yourself. Not for me—not because you’re doing what you think I want or saying what you think I need to hear. No, you need to find your courage for _you_. I’m going to love you and fight for you no matter what, but I can’t allow you to think the worst of yourself. Rumple, you are _so much more_.”

xoxo

“You love me? Still?” The declaration catches him by complete surprise. After all his lies, hiding, and manipulation, she still loves him.

“That’s the part you took away from all that? Rumple, don’t you know?” she says, her eyes shining with love. Love for him. A monster in a man’s body.

He stares at her amazed, his breath hitching somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“No, he says seriously, “I didn’t think that was even possible. I mean, I didn’t dare hope…” he trails off, humbled by her unwavering faith. “Do you really believe that I’m a hero?”

“So you were listening,” she teases. “Yes. With all my heart.” She caresses his cheek, the skin rough and unshaven.

“Say it again,” he begs desperately.

“I love you.”

“And I love you, too.”

They embrace tightly and the scales upon his heart begin to fall away, defenses breaking down. He is overwhelmed with love for this incredible creature and the hope of a future with her shines brightly in the midst of this dark day.

“Now, that doesn’t mean everything is fine,” she warns him. “Marriage takes work and we both have some growing to do.”

“I know,” he admits. “And I'm prepared to do whatever it takes. But I needed to hear you say the words. For you to say you will take me as I am.”

“Oh, my precious one. Yes. I’m so proud of you—just as you are. Please understand,” she implores, “when I get angry it’s because I can’t understand why you don’t see the man I see. Intelligent, handsome, witty, wonderful you.”

“I don’t know if I can be the person you think I am,” he says slowly. “But I will try.”

“For yourself,” she reminds him.

“Yes,” he agrees, smiling at her stubbornness. “For myself.”

xoxo

They decide to retrieve Belle’s cozy blanket from beneath the circulation desk after all. They’re huddled under it together, seated side-by-side with their backs against the gray wall and Rumple’s bad leg stretched out in front of him.

“I know the others aren’t really my friends,” she confesses, looking straight ahead.

“What?” he says, wrinkling his brow.

“Oh, they make a good show of it when I can translate an ancient text, find a magical solution to a problem, or babysit at odd hours.” It's a painful admission, but one he needs to hear if they're going to move forward honestly. "But other than Archie, Ariel, and maybe Leroy, they don’t care about me.”

He waits patiently for her to continue, saying nothing, though she knows quite well what he thinks of her so-called friends.

“Even though I've tried to do right by everyone, to be the hero, deep down I always thought it was you and me against the world, you know?” Belle sinks her teeth into her lower lip, worrying the flesh. “But when I found that gauntlet and it showed me that the dagger was what you loved the most, I felt like even though we were together I was still alone. I had already lost my mother. Then I lost my best friend and my true love. I was hurt and angry and I sent you away without letting you explain. I left you alone in the woods without money or your cane or a car. I was a fool. I’m sorry, Rumple. I’m so sorry.”

“Sweetheart, you were only doing what you thought was right,” he insists. “You’ve forgiven me so much. How can I not do the same for you? But the gauntlet? Belle, you don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me,” she invites eagerly, longing for him to tell her that she is wrong, so very wrong. 

“It reveals a person’s greatest weakness, in my case, the Dark One’s dagger. Often that’s also they thing they love they most, but not always. What I love most in all the realms is you, but you have never been a weakness. You have never been anything but my strength.” He draws a deep breath. “I love you, Belle.”

Belle feels close to bursting with happiness. She has never been so glad to be wrong about anything. Rumple loves her. More than power. More than magic. The shackles on her heart fall away; she is free.

“There’s something else I need to tell you, Belle,” he whispers sorrowfully. “I broke our cup. Merida…she took it to taunt me, to remind me of what I had to fight for—you. But I smashed it so I could cut the ropes and escape. God, Belle, I’m so sorry.” Ducking his head, his hair falls forward like a curtain, covering his embarrassment.

Sweeping the hair from his eyes with her fingers, she cups his chin in her hands. “So that explains it. I went looking for that cup today. I couldn't believe it when the safe was open and it was missing. It doesn't matter, though. We know where it is. It may broken, but it’s not beyond repair. We’ll find and pick up the pieces, one by one.” Both their eyes are bright with unshed tears.

He swallows audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Both know they’re talking about more than the cup. “Do you think truly think we can put it back together? Change its fate?” he ventures.

“I know we can,” she says, brushing her lips over his in a sweet, chaste kiss. Stretching, she helps him to his feet, wrapping her arm tight around his shoulders as they cross the threshold of the library and step into the sunlight. “It’s never too late.”

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Reactions? Would love to discuss this!


End file.
